The First Bad Man

ure was so sad.
We had fallen in love; that was still true. But given the right psychological conditions, a person could fall in love with anyone or anything. A wooden desk — always on all fours, always prone, always there for you. What was the lifespan of these improbable loves? An hour. A week. A few months at best. The end was a natural thing, like the seasons, like getting older, fruit turning. That was the saddest part — there was no one to blame and no way to reverse it.

you were wise enough to know that this life would consist mostly of letting go of things you wanted, then why not get good at the letting go, rather than the trying to have?

was like a dream, where the most unlikely person can’t get enough of you — a movie star or someone’s husband. How can this be? But the attraction is mutual and undeniable; it is the reason for itself.

After a long time, ten or fifteen minutes, the kissing slowed. There were a series of closing kisses, goodbye kisses, kisses placed like lids on boxes — then the lid would pop off and need to be replaced. There, this is the final kiss — no, this is the final kiss. This one is, it really is. And now I’m just kissing that kiss good night.

But it had another layer to it, because imitating crass people was kind of liberating — like pretending to be a child or a crazy person. It was something you could do only with someone you really trusted, someone who knew how capable and good you actually were. After he released his hold on my necklace I had a brief coughing fit, which led to a discussion of my globus and the color doctor.

She looked like she was in a gang